Decisions and Consequences
by smilelaughread
Summary: Three points of view about the events that killed James and Lily. Written for the school of prompts challenge, K1-3.
1. Poem

_Poem - for the School of Prompts challenge at HPFC, K.1: 100 words._

* * *

 _I'm not a poet, you know it_

 _As bad as my rhymes are, I think of you and see stars_

 _I love you, James Potter_

 _Now and forever._

 _-Lily_

When she'd given Peter the note to pass on to James sometime in their seventh year, she'd folded and sealed the stupid poem and foolish promises with a kiss.

A year later: Peter had sealed their fate and put an expiration date on that "forever".

He stood, only a silhouette backlit by the moon. The house he stared at contained a family whose demise was promised to Voldemort. He crushed the delicate note without even the slightest twinge of remorse.

They had a month to live.


	2. Noble

_Noble -_ _for the School of Prompts challenge at HPFC, K.2: 300 words._

* * *

 _It was all over in a flash. Noise, confusion, then nothing._

James Potter had always thought he'd die with honour. He'd imagined, rather morbidly, fighting to his last breath or throwing himself in the line of fire. He hadn't imagined anything but a shining last sacrifice. Of course, he rather hoped he wouldn't die.

So much for claiming not to be a romantic. There was opposing evidence to be found in his elaborate fantasies, each further from reality than the previous, though he couldn't have known that. If not for Peter, he wouldn't have found out what a violent, unjust death really meant.

 _There was no warning._

Wards fell, betrayal burned, and the door swung open. Only his shouting, very little background noise, and no confusion.

 _There was no strength._

James was weak. His house had been invaded, his wand was not at hand, and his family was caught in a desperate whirlwind.

 _There was no last thought._

He would never have the satisfaction of knowing victory before he closed his eyes for the last time. There was just a blinding green light, and then altogether too much silence.

 _There was no courage._

If he'd had just one more breath, he would have died screaming. Courage falsely stood where a quick death had frozen his terror. His will came from protecting his family, but, by god, he was frightened.

 _The end was blunt._

The flash of memories he might have expected to fly through was missing, there was no golden moment to hold, he had no god to pray to.

 _There was nothing left._

With him, Lily, and Harry, the Potter line was done. More importantly, his son's future disappeared, all those happy moments they hadn't yet lived through. With a resounding crash, the gates to what could have been closed firmly shut forever. Promises and vague plans went up in smoke, trips that would never be taken, sights they would never see.

He would never know that Harry had survived. He would never know how noble - how valuable, how instrumental - his sacrifice had been.


	3. Remorse

_Anguish - for the School of Prompts challenge at HPFC, K.3: 500 words._

* * *

How many different ways can a person feel remorse?

Time, living - it all felt like falling, no true reality to piece together all the fragments.

A month since that horrific night, thirty days to wait for the courts. Not enough time to reconcile his friends with the words: dead, dead, dead, and murderer. Sentenced to Azkaban was the best Sirius could hope for - Remus didn't know if he deserved it. He had his own fantasies about what he could do to Sirius, his friend, his enemy.

Time meant nothing when everyone else was dead, so he spent his days alone. He waited for the decision.

 _Self-Reproach._

First came hatred, a departure of his good conscience. With every piece of him, he hated Remus Lupin. How could he not have seen the signs? How could he have let his friends down so completely? He replayed moments in his mind to the point that the happiness from each one of them was sucked dry. He analyzed and reread every letter, every note, every clue that might have told him what he had missed. There was nothing. Despite that, he didn't forgive himself.

Such was his suffering. Every moment of every day was full of loathing that was only directed inwardly.

That was bad enough, but it didn't stop there.

 _Anguish._

The second step in Lupin's self-appointed torture was the pain.

Past the stunned exterior, he was a painting done in red with sharp, pointed jabs. He was the masterpiece that had taken long years to perfect - one that somehow left critics with disappointed frowns on their faces. Every memory forced blood from barely-healed wounds. The first time he heard one of their names after their deaths brought him to breathless tears.

He suffered quietly.

Enigmatic to everyone else, he stewed on the inside. He was still like the centre of a storm, though around him raged a fire that left him exhausted and guilty. More guilt. More pain.

Happiness became nothing more than a myth.

 _Compassion._

Third, years later, came a sense of compassion. Never satisfaction.

He became a dreamer, thinking up elaborate scenarios to ease his pain and stop the suffering. An explanation - he explored every possible justification. He spent too much time in bed.

 _Penance_.

Remus did his time. His friends had paid with their lives, Black had his sentence, and Remus had to feel it all. He was a sinner with knees bloody from praying for salvation that would never come.

 _Attrition_.

He was a starving man, bereft of sustenance in many ways. He was a beggar, clinging to comfort where he could find it. He was weak and poor, though not physically. Dumbledore's job offer at Hogwarts was accepted with hollowness threatening to eat him from the inside out. Harry looked like James, but Remus did not tell him much, not even close to what he needed to share.

Harry looked like James, and Remus starved himself of all memories the castle and that messy hair brought back.

 _And then Sirius came back. Not a murderer. And Peter was back. Traitor._

 _The cycle began anew. Different._

 _He had a friend back. He was not guilty. Still, the pain never left._


End file.
